The Nest

The old white-haired janitor, who hated his job with a passion, grumbled under his breath as he hobbled to the small maintenance room, unlocked the power box, and flipped the rusty master switch up. There was a faint buzzing noise as the electricity raced through the lines and an audible click when the lights powered on. The light revealed an aged wooden basketball court with a sprawling green eagle in the center. Banners decorated the walls that boasted state championships and every other notable achievement the school had won. The wooden bleachers, which had been painted several times since they were installed, rested on the east and west sides of the court. The gymnasium was almost identical to what it was thirty years ago, except back then it was referred to as the fieldhouse, but in the current jargon of the school, it was dubbed the Nest. The timeless gym was a portal to the past and a cherished relic of the country-town of Elson. Even though the Nest was small and outdated, the locals took great pride in it.

Elson was a rural, tight-knit community in the southern part of Illinois. Nearly everyone who lived there had once been a Fighting Eagle themselves, and to them, they still were. Parents and alumni relived their glory days through the newer generations. The whole community was absorbed in the Elson High athletics, especially basketball, which was what they were known for. For a school with less than a hundred kids per graduating class, it had an astonishing number of athletes that went on to compete at the college level. Not many teams came to the Nest and left with a win. In fact, both varsity squads were undefeated thus far in the season and were favored for a state championship sweep, which wasn't anything surprising. It was a basketball-bred school. They simply expected to win. The coaches put in grassroots-level basketball programs for the elementary kids so that they would be better prepared for when the games really counted. It was a prudent athletic investment, and it got them the results they wanted. Not only did Elson have the kids who grew up in the system, but they also had a profusion of talented transfer students. It was known throughout the surrounding schools that if you were a basketball player with ambition, you moved to Elson. Jack Meyer was one of those move-ins.

    The gym was empty until that evening. When the tip-off to the boys’ game was closing in, every seat was filled, and since it was such a small gym, the games were always packed and tumultuous, almost deafening sometimes. It was an electric atmosphere.

    The Fighting Eagles’ fans took up the entire home side and the majority of the visitor’s side. The student section, like always, was a rowdy and energetic bunch secluded in a corner of the home section. The tickets were free for students, and since it was practically an excuse to go haywire with their peers, almost all of them showed up, but most of the revelers there were actually passionate about the game because it was their friends and classmates out there battling on the court. The student body as a whole was a tight group, and they treated the move-ins like one of their own.

    Jack Meyer transferred to Elson this year, his sophomore year, and the reason he wasn’t there earlier was because he didn’t want to leave his old school and friends behind. He tried to stay as long as possible, but it was obvious that his team wasn’t going anywhere with or without him, so he had to make a decision — one that his family urged— between a hometown or helping pay for his college through a scholarship. Jack Meyer wasn’t the type of kid to go to college unless it was through a scholarship, so his friends understood why he left. Even as a sophomore, he was probably one of the best guards in the state. The coaches knew he was qualified to play valuable minutes, but since they would have him for two more years, they played the seniors who had been brought up into the program and earned their playing time. Jack was used to being a main player, and it was a dose of humility to watch from the sidelines. He hated sitting on the bench, but he was a supportive teammate and patient for the upcoming seasons. He swallowed his pride and grew used to it.

    During the first quarter of the game, the Fighting Eagles took an early lead. A big lead. It was going to be a blowout, nothing new. In blowout games, the starters played for a quarter or two then they got pulled, and the other guys got put in. These were just opportunities for the benchwarmers to get some experience in a real game scenario.

    The horn sounded to start the second quarter. There were separate conversations going on among the fans that created a consistent hubbub of noise, and the home cheerleaders were chanting their usual chants at the top of their lungs. As soon as they finished, the opposing team’s cheerleaders immediately tried to one up them. There was an assortment of different noises happening, but when something exciting happened on the court, everyone cheered and hollered and all the noise became a big roar. Sometimes it was almost chaotic. 

Elson was up by nearly thirty points now. The bench players' adrenaline was pumping because they knew they would get their share of the spotlight. Jack was sitting near the end of the bench between Ben and Ricky. He turned to Ricky and quietly said, “I honestly hope I don’t have to go in today.”

    “What?”

    “Yeah, I really hope I don’t hav—”

    “No, what?” Ricky interrupted. ”I didn’t hear the first thing you said. It’s deafening in here.”

“Oh. I said I hope I don’t have to go in the game today.”

    “Why?”

    “I don’t know, I just don’t feel like it.”

    Ricky shot him a quizzical look.“Why would you not wanna go in the game? We barely ever get to play.”

    “Well part of the reason is because I’m exhausted from the JV game and my legs are all stiff and tight from sitting here for so long.”

    “At least you get to play in the JV game. My parents always come to both games and have to watch me sit on the bench ninety percent of the time.” 

    “You’re only a sophomore though.”

    “You are too.”

    “Yeah, you’re right,” said Jack, trying not to be condescending. “But I had some more experience when I moved here.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s stupid, though. I think everyone who plays JV should get the same amount of playing time. It's crazy how the coaches here treat everything like it's the state finals.”

“Sometimes I think they take it too serious.”

“Exactly. What are they getting out of winning a JV game other than the self satisfaction that they're better than the other poor coach? I swear, these coaches are the most insecure people deep down.” 

“I guess.”

“I’m serious, like— look, I promise I’ve actually thought about this before,”Jack said. “These coaches are just guys who didn't win enough when they were kids so they came back to high school with a vengeance. They’re living their dream through us.”

“I think they coach because they like to help us get better.”

 “Well I’m sure that's a little part of it, but I’m talking about the real reason they coach. Think about it, these guys—even the principal—want to win so bad that the school somehow cares more about sports than actually teaching us stuff. Why in the world do they care so much? I swear the only thing people do around here is eat corn, play basketball, and tell me what to do.”

“So what you’re saying is that you don’t wanna go in the game because you don’t like corn or the coaches?”

They both laughed.“No, no. I got off topic. I don’t want to go in the game because I’m tired and it’s embarrassing to me when we go get trash minutes in a blowout.”
    Ricky shot him a quizzical look. “How?”

    “Because everyone in the stands looks at us like we’re the bums of the team,” He sighed. “Which I guess we are, but we don’t deserve to be the bums.”

    Jack thought for a second then said, “You know, honestly, I think the real reason I—”

    Ben turned to them and said, “Can you guys please be quiet? We won’t get to go in if Coach sees you two chit-chatting.”

    Jack continued, “The real reason I don’t want to go in is because I’m growing up, or —well— grown up.” He pointed to his temple. “At least up here, I think. Like listen, last game I was sitting here thinking to myself how crazy it was that we all obsess over a game where we run around on a wooden court and throw a leather ball into a net. And it's even crazier that we stress about what the people in the stands think about it. It felt like a huge waste of time. And then we have these crazy ass coaches telling us what to do. I don’t want to take advice from someone I don’t want to end up like. It’s all a big mess if you think about it. That’s just how it works though, and I hate it. I’ve wasted so much time in this damn Nest, man. It’s crazy.”

    Ricky was lost. “Are you just mad because you’re on the bench?” 

    “No, I’m dead serious. You know what? I honestly hate basketball. I think I’ve always hated it. I can’t believe I changed my life for a game. I can’t play next year. I’m not wasting any more time in a damn nest.”

    As soon as he finished his sentence he heard his name called. He looked towards the front of the bench. His coach was pointing at the court and looking directly at him. “Meyer, go check in for Mills. Hurry!”

    The Fighting Eagles won that game in a landslide, and everybody got to play. The fans started to clear out after the final buzzer sounded. The players followed soon after. Eventually the only one left was the old white-haired janitor. He swept the floor and cleaned the stands. He grumbled under his breath as he hobbled to the small maintenance room, unlocked the power box, and flipped the rusty master switch down. All the lights turned off.

    He hated his job.